I have three posts left from our Kansas trip from, um, last Fall..... Have I mentioned P has been extra Active Alert lately? I have yet to even blog about his birthday.... Anyway... we're having lots of fun around here, despite rarely leaving the house!
I've mentioned our wily vegetarian ways numerous times before. And poor E's hypoglycemia. These two subjects met when E's doc told him that he needed to eat fish. Being the staunch vegetarian he was, he said something like, well, No fucking way, and proceeded to pop millions of Fish Oil Capsules :) And then, a year later, he still felt awful... and decided to finally listen to his doctor (and then felt awful guilt.) But his body felt better. And his energy improved. And his back started working again. And there it is.
Many in the Schultz clan appear to be hypoglycemic-ly challenged. While I'm ready to rumble from a bunch of bread and veggies, these guys are passed out, rumble-less. And this gets the Mister thinking, and then, the Mister starts worrying. What if P takes after them, and not his mana eating Mama?
So E began offering P bits of his fish when we went out to eat. P would quickly say "No thank you, Papa, maybe some other time..." Granted, this is a fairly common reaction amongst the pre-school set when presented with new food. But P typically lunges for new tastes. A buffet full of new foods is eating nirvana for the kid. So, we (the parental unit) finally discussed it after the Little Man went to bed one night and decided the only way the kid would try the fish... was if I ate some fish.
And I've tried. I really have. But truth be told, eating meat has grossed me out since I was very little. Combine that with the effects of reading about the environmental impacts of eating meat and the atrocities of the meat industry and, well, there's really no going back for me, without a lobotomy :) So I shoved some walls up in my brain like a construction site detour and smiled as I took some bites of fish tacos one night (and damn good fish tacos they were!!!) And after about 4 trips to this cantina, the Little Man tried some too. And he liked it.
Its funny, I could hear E sigh with relief :) (What a parent won't do to keep their child "safe.") We kept up the crusade, going out for a fishy option every Friday. Sometimes P took the bait, sometimes not. Then we visited Kansas, where Beef, Its What's For Dinner. And I could practically hear my mother squeal as she fried us fish for dinner. For too long had her daughter had to cook separate meals. For too long had she been unable to do that most motherly duty of providing sustenance for her (freak vegetarian;) child. For too long had I been away from that protein packed punch she worries I need. The tide had turned and she brought home every fish swimming in it. My father ate more salmon in November than he has in his life. P, on the other hand, occasionally ate a bite or two...
This change not only effected my mother and her kitchen kindness. It opened up a spot for this Grandad to be a Grandad in the way that this Grandaddy knows best how to be. Despite numerous rejections to adventure filled invitations in the past, (status quo for all who invite P, oh, about 98% of the time;) my father braved yet another invite to the Little Man: fishing. And P accepted!
Off they trotted to grab some poles and head to the pond for a little catch and release. When they returned, Gramps proudly displayed the iphone pic of P's prize. The Little Man was shocked at the size, weight and the feel of the fish, but fascinated by the whole affair. And, what's more, he had bonded :)
From that day on, he ran through the house looking for my father. Hugged him goodbye in the morning (if we were awake in time ;) and played with him in the evening. He accepted Gramps' invitations to ride in the mule and play with the duck call. My father was like a happy puppy, unable to grouch even when P awoke him from his evening naps.
But the one outcome E wished for has yet to manifest. P is, humorously enough, truly torn on the fish front. He's fascinated by all things oceanic and would like to poke and pry at clams to his heart's content. But he doesn't want to eat them. Or at least, today he doesn't :) This morning, as he sat in his swing twirling, he suddenly asked me why we sometimes eat fish (I'm guessing because I cooked meat, a fish dinner, for the first time in my life this week. I hated the whole process, despite how easy it was. P and I both took our typical two bites and then chowed down on the rice and veggies while E finished our meals:) I told him Papa's body doesn't seem to work very well without it. He sat with that for a bit and then stopped swirling and marched to my lap. "Mama," he said as he looked me dead in they eye, "I don't want to eat anymore fish. I don't want any fish to die for me, I want them to live in their natural habitat and swim for as long as they can."
Ahhh, me too, darlin', me too. But I just smiled and nodded... its always the safest :)
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